


Ten Fathoms Deep on the Road to Hell

by 8d6FireDamage



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8d6FireDamage/pseuds/8d6FireDamage
Summary: A little speculative stream of consciousness on Zolf's loss of faith during his time alone.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Ten Fathoms Deep on the Road to Hell

Fuck the gods. 

Fuck the gods who compelled him to suffer with immobility and helplessness for fear of retaliation. 

Fuck the gods who looked upon this world and allowed all this suffering and all this hatred and all this death. 

Fuck the gods for putting so much of it on his shoulders. 

Fuck the gods. 

Zolf was alone. Again. But this time he had no one to blame but himself. He refused to think of the tears on Hamid's eyes as he struggled to justify himself. Sasha's acceptance like it was only a matter of time until this happened. He left them, and he began to walk. 

He walked as far as his god granted legs would carry him. He walked into storms. He walked into places ravaged by winds and floods. He walked into examples of pure desolation, one after the other. He walked all the way to the other side of the world. He walked until it was no longer allowed. 

The loss of Zolf's faith was so sudden, but at the same time not at all. Everything then nothing all at once. Like a chain being pulled between two great forces and holding fast, but then stretching and stretching and stretching until that inevitable moment. 

It's a tricky thing to lose your faith in a world where you know without a shadow of a doubt that the gods are real, watching, and seem to have a particular interest in you. It is, however, made much simpler when you wake up in sodden sheets and without legs. Again. 

Zolf wanted to wallow in the misery, welcome it back like an old friend. It was all too easy to stare at himself in the mirror and inspect every inch of the scars time had left on his body, and begin to drown in it. He looked so much older than he should, and yet, he knew he had so far to go. 

Zolf steeled himself. He willed that overwhelming despair that washed over him in waves down, down, down into a little kernel of spite that situated itself in his heart. 

Fuck the gods. Fuck their imposed morality, and fuck them for not fixing this world gone to hell. 

From now on  _ he  _ would decide what was right for himself. He would do the goddamned right thing. With or without them. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currycurrie on Tumblr if ya wanna come shout at me!


End file.
